Beginnings
by doofusface
Summary: "They were inseparable. No one noticed, of course, because they were in a group." Sequel to "The Universal Language"; can be read as a stand alone.


Week Six.

They were inseparable.

No one noticed, of course, because they were in a group.

The Runaways were a unit, and the idea that they were divisible by two never crossed their minds (in Ed's and Virgil's cases, anyway). It never showed. They were good at charades. Very good at it, in fact.

On one of their vandalism sprees-before Lex, before the Team, before the League-the boy and the girl had carried out a baseball-like game of "Break the Billboards": he grew full size and threw them in the air, and she propelled herself through the center. They didn't speak a single word to each other for the duration of the game.

He knew when to throw. She knew when to launch.

When the other two tried to join, the rhythm was lost.

Week Eight.

It started: the mutual feelings of attraction, the "looks", the greater appreciation, the deeper understanding.

She knew more of his language. He tried to learn more of hers. Their friends gave up after the first three days. They had, however, learned to tell when she needed something, or was trying to tell them something important.

Tye mastered her expressions of fear, of pain, of anxiety; Sam, his.

Week Nine.

Honestly, it was surprising nobody knew. The whole time at the lab. The (constant) close space. The looks.  
They almost slipped up, too. The boy was over-protective at points-not from jealously, but because of what he had seen happen to his mother. The girl had a need to prove she was capable; old scars etched by her parents, still wide open from the almost daily media scrutiny. So she charged more goons than usual, and as is the case with recklessness, failed to notice the knife dangling from one of the thugs' hands.

There was a cry, then a thud, blood, more noise, gold light, electricity, and a flash. The boy was visibly distraught, moreso than his comrades (but given the circumstances, they luckily didn't question it). The girl laughed. Fortunately, flesh wounds were an easy fix. Unfortunately, the ruffian had gotten away.

Week Eleven.

He's smiling more. It's a mix of knowing his girlfriend is alright, a mix of relief, a mix of knowing his best friend is back to normal. She notices. They kiss when they go on food runs. Wood collecting. Behind buildings, behind billboards. Whenever. Wherever.

Their friends don't know. They don't feel the need to tell them.

Week Twelve.

This is their last stand. One more act of maybe-we-are-heroes-heroics to top off their vigilante run. One more day to fight. One more day to save the world.

The heroes split up into teams of two. The Runaways are disbanded (in retrospect, this seemed to be a sign of future times), paired to Leaguers. Probably a way to recruit, definitely a way to win. The boy looks at the girl. They say nothing. They don't need to.

Their eyes communicate all their fears and encouragements. Movements so small and quick that no one notices deliver mutual messages: Be safe. Come back to me. __

I'll be waiting.

Week Fourteen.

Ed leaves to stay with his father. Virgil becomes Static. He joins the Team. Even Neut, who stayed behind in the lab, returns to his foster family.

They decide to leave with no secrets. Surprise lines their friends' faces. Then those disintegrate into confusion. Then questioning. Acceptance. Congratulations.

The boy and the girl connect at their hands. They smile. A car drives up to their side; familiar, old, home. A woman rolls down the window. Tye's mother. His house is a home again, the towering, abusive figure gone from the premises, thanks to an anonymous tip.

The hug their comrades. They say goodbye, but not really-it's impossible to promise such a finite and definite decision.

It's not the end. It's never the end.

Week Eighteen.

They've settled in.

They spend more hours than they can have in a day in the living room. It's a continuous process, learning. She learns new words. He learns new stories. They share. Encourage. Lean.

His mother watches from the back of the room.

She smiles the way only mothers know how.


End file.
